


Bra Prompt - A Fluffy Castiel Drabble

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:50:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Fluffy drabble based on the item/object prompt: Bra





	

“Thanks for holding down the fort,” Dean hoisted a six-pack of beer on the table, glass clinking glass, and gestured around the library.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the elder Winchester, quizzically angling his head, “Dean, the bunker is held in place by gravity.”

Sam sniggered, accepting an open bottle from his brother, settling into the chair opposite and flipping open his laptop, “Yeah, you guys saved our asses - thought we were in for it when that FBI agent blew our cover.”

Dean shook his head, smirking, and popped the top off his own bottle, taking a long draught and plopping heavily into his chair. Something hanging from the angel’s pocket caught his eye, and he leaned forward for a better look.

“How’d Y/N manage the NSA IDs so quickly?” Sam quirked an eyebrow askance.

“Y/N is just that good,” you drifted casually into the room, giving Sam’s shoulder a firm squeeze. You exchanged a furtive glance with the blue-eyed angel, attempting to ascertain if the brothers suspected anything.

“Cas, buddy, I have a serious question,” Dean pointed the neck of the beer bottle at the angel’s coat pocket, “is that bra yours?”

Cas’ eyes flew wide like a frightened animal, posture going rigid, fists clenching.

You watched in seeming slow motion as Dean grabbed the end of the black garment, withdrawing it from Cas’ pocket and holding it up in the air to examine.

You panicked, your brain choosing to mime Dean’s sarcastically questioning tone as a defense, “Yeah Cas, why do you have a bra in your pocket?” Cas’ wide blue eyes locked on yours, and you regretted the choice immediately. He was going to tell the truth.

“Y/N, you left it here on the lamp,” Cas indicated the lamp on the table where Sam and Dean were now seated. The table where you and he were fucking with reckless abandon mere moments ago when his angelic ears heard the clanging of the reinforced outer bunker door signaling the brothers’ return.

You held your breath.

Sam furrowed his brow in thought.

Dean polished off his beer, opening another, reclining in the chair and swinging his legs onto the table, eyes glazing over philosophically, “See Sammy, I told you, invite a girl to live in the bunker and the girl stuff creeps into all the corners. Next thing you know you wake up with your nails painted red and wearing eyeliner.”

You let out a relieved sigh, Dean wasn’t catching on. Your eyes darted to Sam – he had a knowing grin plastered across his face, eyes focused on something on the other side of the table. Your focus followed his gaze.

“These too,” Cas innocently held out his hand toward you - your lacey pink undies dangling from his fingers.

You could only squeak unintelligibly in response, mouth agape. There would certainly be no more hiding your secret relationship with the angel from the brothers now.

Cas tilted his head, thrusting the panties nearer.

As your eyes flashed between the angel’s calm blues and the bright garment, a feeling built in your chest, your lips slowly drawing into a smile. Liberating, it felt liberating to have it out in the open. You swiped the undies from his hand.

Dean bolted upright, scrambling away from the table, exaggeratedly wiping his hands across his shirt, “Come on guys! We work here. This is not some sex dungeon.”

Cas pivoted to face Dean, forehead wrinkled in seriousness, “Dean, Y/N and I have not had relations in the dungeon.” Cas stared expectantly at Dean as if this statement would make the revelation more tolerable.

“Yet,” you pointed a warning finger at Dean, maneuvering around the table to grab your angel by the hand. You gave Cas’ arm a tug, leading him toward the door, “Now if you don’t mind, I do believe this angel owes me an apology and I fully intend to accept it.”


End file.
